The White Warrior
by Blondegenius911
Summary: Draco thought he could never love. Till he meets a girl unlike any he's ever met: an Immortal Druid, keeper of time and Guardian of the Seelie Court. Draco X OC. Bon Apetit!
1. Chapter 1

**hello everyone! This is a DracoxOC story, duh lol. Enjoy, dears!**

"wandless magic?" was the first thing Draco heard as he stepped into the main hall of Hogwarts.

"What?" Draco asked quietly of Hermione, who was still staring at Prof. McGonagall like she was a ghost.

"Wandless Magic, Mr. Malfoy." McGonagall confirmed, "I was just speaking to Mr. Potter . Ms. Granger, and Mr. Weasley about it, you see."

Draco looked around the room, only just now noticing the other two, who looked just as baffled by the conversation as Draco felt. "Wandless magic isn't possible," Harry stated with finality, and Hermione nodded her confirmation, subtly slipping her puny hand in Ron's, and Draco inwardly sneered.

Prof. McGonagall sighed, and sat down at one of the only chairs not damaged by the final battle that had swept over Hogwarts not two weeks ago, and cleared her throat, preparing for a long speech, and the rest of them sat down for the long haul. "Just because it isn't common doesn't mean it isn't possible! My mother raised me on the tales of a witch who could spin spells without a wand. She was part of a supposedly long-dead race of wizards, called Druids, or 'Seirbhísigh na Fey', roughly meaning 'servants of the fey". They were native to the Highlands, using Astronomy and Science in place of the powers provided by a wand."

"well, I've never heard of them," Hermione interrupted haughtily, fluffing her hair, but Draco wasn't listening, suddenly interested for some reason.

McGonagall carried on like Hermione hadn't spoken. "They were saddled with the responsibility to create fertility and begin and end seasons in the Highlands, using ancient runes and spells even our Ancient Runes Teachers have never figured out on Scottish holidays, such as Samhain."

"….are they related to wizards?" Draco couldn't help but ask, wincing at the thought of asking anyone anything.

McGonagall shrugged. "honestly, not much else is known about them, besides that they are and ancient and brilliant race of beings. But I do believe they are related. A good example would be that they are a different breed, but much older and savage, like a wolf to a domesticated dog. But in any case, the old tale is of one that survived, a girl that's always named as '_bán laoch' _in the myths."

"what does that mean?' Harry asked with ease, and Draco silently envied him that skill.

"'White Warrior' would be the best translation. She was the only female druid, the youngest of three brothers. The thing I've always craved to know, though, was her name. Truly, not her title."

"I know," came a gravelly voice, and all eyes darted to the pile of rubble, where Argus Filch was dusting away the fine dust on the marble floor, his poofy cat curled on a rock beside him.

"Truly?" asked McGonagall warily.

"Aye, why would I say so if I didn't, woman? My old Ma used to know her as a little girl ,she did. She would come when my Ma was having her break from the day's chores and have tea with her! Ma would tell me that she was mad as a hatter, owned a bat she did! A bat!"

"Her name?" McGonagall asked, exasperated.

Argus huffed, leaning on his broom like it was a staff. "Mackayla Bláth

McBain."

Everyone was silent, thinking it over. Draco said the name in his head over and over, how it flowed, each part of the name connected by a letter or a sound. It sounded like an ancient Scottish name, he had to admit.

"It is said, that the '_bán laoch' _gave Dumbledore the Elder Wand," Argus muttered, turning away from them to continue his work.

"What?" Cried Hermione, leaping out of her chair to grip Argus's arm for a second before letting go with a grimace, subtly wiping her hand on her jeans.

"You heard me, girl. I have no clue how, but she did."

Ron, who had been silent before now, spoke up. "Then why don't we find the bloody White Warrior?"

"Ron, that is positively….." Hermione paused. "Brilliant!"

Draco snorted to cover his interest in finding this mad warrior. "It's an old wives' tale!"

"So, Malfoy?" Ron countered. "If we do find her, then we have found not only another piece to the mystery of Dumbledore's life, but also we've discovered a living relic! Relic's that can breathe are heard to come by, even in this day and age!"

"Hold on! So she's immortal?" Harry asked, scratching his head and simultaneously fixing his goofy glasses.

"Well, her brothers aged, right? So, she must have been the only one." Hermione stated, and then went all quiet, freaking even Draco out. Hermione always had something to say. Finally, she spoke again: "That might be why she went mad, seeing all her loved ones aging and getting sick and dying while she stayed forever young."

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but shut it like he thought better. Finally, Harry spoke. "Well, where should we start?"

Professor rose, smoothing her skirts and gesturing for them to follow her. Harry, Ron, and Hermione closely followed, while Draco hung back aways, keeping an air of "whatever" about him. Also, so he wouldn't touch anyone.

They came to the library entrance, and as McGonagall swept in, Draco noticed that it was untouched from the war.

The Professor hurried to a small little gazing ball he'd never noticed before, almost black it was so dark a blue, and shined it till the dust was gone (and there was quite a lot of it, mind you). "This," She explained, tapping it fondly, "Helps you "Find the 'who's' who are gone. We were too afraid to use it while Voldemort was alive, because this could be used as a great weapon, but now it quite different!" She inhaled and exhaled, calming herself, then leaned down, and the young wizards waited with bated breath. "Show me Mackayla Bláth McBain."

The sphere seemed to writhe, though it didn't move from it's position, the black smoke stuff inside it swirling like it was exciting to be in use once more. Slowly, white words in elegant script was etched on the inside, and the smoke inside parted to show it's message:

Castle McBain, Highlands, Scotland.

Tread wisely, young wizards. The White Warrior isn't all daft.

**Well, all for now! Who is this mysterious Mackayla, and why can't Draco seem to stop his interest in her? Find out! R&R, my lovelies! ****J**


	2. Castle Bain

"Bloody hell," Weasley cried as the four of them, Draco slightly ahead, at Castle Bain.

_You took the words right out of my mouth, Draco said silently as he gazed at the monstrous ancient castle placed directly next to a steep, ragged cliff leading directly down to Loch Ness. _

_The castle was made up of stones that had, over time, turned from a light cheery gray to a smooth and ghastly burnt ash color. The wings of the castle swooped over the rocky landscape like a fortress, becoming you to dare enter. A few towers shot up, but one in particular rose above the others, rising high into the foggy Highland air, brushing the clouds. It had several stones missing, making it lean dangerously to the left. The doors themselves where enormous, polished an eerie birch-white. _

"_This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," Hermione whispered, and they all turned to stare at her._

"_What?" she cried, "It's so old and beautiful, it must have been impossibly famous when it was first built!"_

_Ron rolled his eyes and Harry snorted, but Draco glanced back up at the gothic manor, and for a moment, it didn't look so much as a frightening beast than a hunched old man of a castle._

_They trooped up the steps and Draco grasped the large knocker, noticing it's strange design. A Venus Flytrap, made of a dark iron, seemed to sprout from the door, it's jaws clamped around the knocker ring, which was studded with little panicking flies. He knocked and after a few very impatient moments an impossibly old butler with a bushy head of white hair and just as poofy mustache swung open the door._

"_Doona you know Lady Mackayla won't take callers till she done 'nd her tea?" He muttered in a thick brogue._

_Hermione elbowed her way to the front. "We are sorry to have come so early, Mr….?"_

_He cleared his throat. "Douglas."_

_She nodded. "Mr. Douglas. When will she be taking cal-" she was interrupted by a shriek._

"_FRISEAL! I FOUND A SEED POD IN MY HAIR! COME LOOK!" A feminine, but still in a thick brogue somehow very different than Friseal's, called from a back room. _

_The old man grinned and in that Draco knew she would be nice. No matter what her house looked like, if the help adored her, she must be nice. "Coming, lass!" Called the butler, and quickly shooed them in. "I doona think she'd mind, young travelers. Come"_

_They entered into the hall, and gaped like retards. The walls were made of dark grey stones and covered with medieval tapestries and paintings, the theme mainly appearing to be about roses. Two hearths, big enough for Draco to walk in, were on the walls on both sides of him, surrounded by plush, old chairs. Persian rugs, mainly in red, where thrown about in haphazard pattern, covering more grey stone. sweeping cherry wood staircases started out as four at the base, then melded to one, then finally one just as it met with the large balcony and the top that wrapped around and disappeared into the bedrooms, he guessed. _

_The butler ushered them down a hallway lined with old paintings and framed scripts, written in tongues long past. Finally, they reached a big black door with the words "Herberarium" written in swirly scrawl. The butler pushed open a door and they came to a large greenhouse/solar._

_The wall in front of them was made entirely of clear glass, rounded, half facing the ocean, half facing hills of rolling heather. More Persian rugs covered the floors, and plants were everywhere. The most common seemed to be Nightshade, Heather, Lilac, and Lavender. Six chaises, of different crazy shades of red, where scattered about on the rugs, and little tables where covered in books. _

_But all Draco was really fascinated about was the young woman leaning against the glass. _

_Her hair, a dazzling multi-colored array of reds, blondes and browns, fells in loose waves to her hips. She was swathed in a dark red gown that seemed ripped right out of a book about medieval fashion, and a thick shawl in red and silver plaid was wrapped around her shoulders. She wore scarlet slippers and about seven ruby rings on her small fingers, wrapped around a large mauve teacup. Her skin was pale, but rosy, and made her lips, a dark blood red, stand out in painfully beautiful starkness. _

"_My Lady?" Asked Douglas, who was looking at her as if it was normal for his mistress to just zone out. _

_Silence._

_Then, with a little petite sigh, she brushed off her already flawless gown and swung her head around to squarely meet Draco's eyes. They were a shocking grey-green, slightly cloudy but still sharp, like the Loch after a storm. Her nose was petite and turned up like a snooty imp, and her blonde eyebrows where high and arched, like little wings framing her eyes. Draco gulped._

"_I see you've invited friends, Friseal! Oh, do go on ahead and have fun, all of you, I'll stay out of your hair," She drawled in her Scot's brogue, and after awhile, Draco figured out she was serious. _

"_We've, ah, come to see you," Draco muttered, scratching his head. No, he was NOT nervous. It couldn't be._

_She raised her eyebrows, the wings taking flight. _

"_Oh. So, Maybe you're here to visit little old me." Her eyes were mocking, and then she sweeped into a deep, deep curtsy. "I am flattered, Lady and Gentlemen callers, but I am afraid that I have just too many visitors today!"_

_Draco heard the butler cackle behind them, and he felt the oddest need to….not smirk. To just smile. Weird. _

_She sobered. "I have some horrible news for you, though, my lovely visitors from afar. There seems to be….a bat on your Lady friend's hair."_


	3. Pine Marten Stew

**I am sorry that I didn't include an intro on my last chapter, but I wrote it pretty late at night, which I will also use as my excuse for so many typos and whatnot. But, I have the greatest urge to write again, so here is the next chapter to ol' Draco's love story ;)**

"WHAT?" Screamed Hermione and then stood perfectly still, like she was afraid it would get angry and bite her. Honestly, Draco didn't see any bat on her head, and he wouldn't put it past the insane lady to hallucinate.

Lady McBain giggled, set down her huge teacup on a table, and breezed over to Hermione, one hand wrapped around the ends of her shawl to keep it on her. She gently lifted one tiny pale hand next to Granger's face and said in a sing-song voice that could bring a man to his knees, "Come out, Sir Echo, she doesn't want you in there."

A moment later, a little albino bat about the size of Lady McBain's palm scurried out from the plain brown curls and waddled onto his master's open hand.

Lady McBain cooed at him, then lifted the hand and he obediently nestled himself into the crook of her neck. "I am terribly sorry about that! He is just silent as a marmot, little rascal. Doona worry though, I'll give him a firm talkin-to. Now, sit, sit! What have you all come for?" She didn't wait for them to find their seats, just plopped down into a light pink chaise and picked up her tea again.

"What's with all the red colors?" Weasley demanded, glaring at his pink chair in distaste.

A slow, seductive smile curved her wine lips, and Draco had to admit, his breath stopped for a second. "This is my clan's plaid. Here in Scotland, we own these colors." She held up her shawl, and they all looked at it closer. It was all different shades of reds, pinks, and blacks, shot through with metallic silver threads. "So you see, these are MY colors, and I'm gonna damn well use them. But on another note," she added in rapid change of subject, "Where will you four be staying tonight?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Well, there is a hotel in Inverness, so-" She cut him off with a sharp wave of her teacup, sloshing tea everywhere. A fat black cat scurried out of nowhere and began licking up the dropped liquid. "Terror, mind your manners! Long, slow licks, dear." She turned back to them with a smile. "Anywho, you shall be staying here at Castle Bain! Come now," She rose quickly, gesturing for them to do the same, "I will show you to your rooms." She strode out of the room, not even bothering to see if they were following. Draco sped up till he was right behind her, becoming hypnotized by the swing of her long wavy hair, swirling around her hips like multi-colored smoke.

They climbed the grand staircase and she suddenly stopped, and Draco almost ran into her. She pointed to Draco. "You, follow me," She waved a hand to the rest of them, "You shall follow Perdita to your rooms, now." She cleared her throat and called out, "PERDITA!" and no sooner than two minutes later, a big white duck waddled out from the entrance to the East Wing. "There you are, dear. Take these three to their rooms. Be ever so kind and take the lady in the Peacock Room, the red-head in the Emerald Room, and the one with the glasses take to Violet Room." She turned to them with a smile. "Meet me in the hall at 6, if you please." And without a word, she twirled around and strode off into the West Wing, a confused Draco behind her. She walked down a dark hall, until abruptly turning to a dark door and pushing it open to reveal a room in all shades of green, the walls a dark hunter. The bed was made of dark oak, four-poster, with a black canopy of fine gauze and pale green fleece plaid sheets. A fire crackled in a matching oak fireplace, surrounded by dark, almost black, green plush armchairs. The floor, a light honey wood, was polished to a glow, the fire dancing across the mirror-like surface.

"Ahh, my favorite, the Emerald Room. This will be where you stay," she turned to him, her shocking opaque eyes freezing him. "Dinner is a six, so be ready." She frowned, her eyes glazing over. "Haggis or pickled duck? Or perhaps Pine Marten Stew?"

Draco knew she was just mumbling to herself, but still he answered, "Haggis is traditional, but Pine Marten Stew is more suitable to the climate, don't you agree?"

She blinked and turned to look at him. Slowly, a warm smile curved her rosy lips and suddenly, Draco imagined her as a medieval Scots lass, lit by the flickering fire, her cheeks rosy from scotch and brandy. "Yes, I think I'll do that, Draco." With a wave, she twirled out of the room, and it was only until Draco had settled into one of the chairs to watch the fire that none of them had told her their names.

**Oh, she is a conundrum, isn't she? R & R! **


	4. Lily Potter

**I am so sorry for not writing in the longest of times! But, I'll have you know, I was gathering some much needed inspiration for our lovely heroine, Mackayla. Enjoy!**

"I know you dinna come all the way to the bonny Highlands for a social call, did ye?" Lady Bain asked in her rough accent as she dug into the thick, almost black, stew with happiness.

The rest just stared at theirs. Meat, what Draco guessed was Pine Marten, floated in clumps on the top of the heavy substance.

"Ah, no, not actually," Granger said absently, poking at an unrecognizable lump in her meal, "We have come to ask you a question."

"How delightful!" Lady Bain cried, clapping her hands together like a small child. She had changed her outfit to a snug reddish-brown gown that sweeped the gray stone floor and hid her feet. She has piled her hair into a intricate medieval braid that wrapped around her head like a milkmaid's, and on her pert nose perched tiny antique reading glasses. A black and red plaid scarf was wrapped tightly around her pale, long neck. "but before you ask dear, I should tell you that the bits of food you are poking at is called "Gourock Ham", fancy Scottish term for "salted herring". One must eat both meat AND fish in a proper meal, ye know." She took a bite, sighed, and turned to Hermione once more. "Now, your question, lass?"

Draco knew from Hermione's glare that she hated being referred to as "Lass" when it seemed like Lady Bain was, if not, younger than Hermione. The only thing stopping Granger from correcting her was that while Lady Bain may not _look _older, she was.

"Did you know a boy named Albus Dumbledore?" Ron asked instead, obviously wanting to get this over with.

Lady Bain furrowed her perfect brows and stared hard into her red wine before answering, "Little snooty wizard, lived in Godric's Hollow?"

Harry nodded empathically.

"Ah, aye, I remember him. Weird lad, 'e was. I visited him every Monday till he turned, oh what was it? Ten and four, if me memory served," suddenly, she frowned. "Ye aren't going ta eat, then?"

Draco stared down at the food, and not even bothering to look into why he actually wanted to make her happy, placed a full spoon in his mouth. It tasted…..fantastic.

The others must have seen his face, because they dug in.

Lady Bain dazzled Draco with her grin, before continuing. "Did ye all know 'im?"

Harry nodded, saying around a full mouth, "He whaz oor 'eadmas-er."

She just stared blankly at him before laughing nervously and pulling in her scarf self-consciously, which revealed the lace-edged neckline, sloping down to show Draco the swell of her pale breasts. His mouth went dry. "Uh, aye, then. Anyway, why did ye want to know?"

"Did you give him the Elder Wand?" Draco blurted out, starving to know the story, and forget about the hunger he felt when he saw her breasts.

She nodded absently, her mind obviously elsewhere, to a small village, over a century ago, named Godric's Hollow. To a little boy with a sharp mind, a serene calm about him, named Albus. "I gave it to 'im because he broke his in a little scrap, on his fourteenth birthday, I think…aye, on his birthday," Her words were soft and less boorish. A quiet feel fell over the table. "He told me he had other friends then, dinna need me, and I left. Never went back."

Harry cleared his throat. "Did you visit with many children?"

She sighed, a lonely sigh that tugged on Draco's heart. "I haven't in a long time. The last one was a girl, Lily Evans, I think. Bonny, downright delightful little lass!"

Harry started chocking on his Gourock Ham. "You _met _my mother!"

Lady Bain started cackling, an innocent belly laugh that echoed down the stone halls. "Of course, Mr. Potter!"

**Once more, this chapter is short, but I have my dad bugging me to get off the computer so he can get on! I shall try to be more consistent. With school here, at least one every weekend ****J**


	5. Whisky and Cinnamon

**Hello people ****J ready for more? I hope so lol (btw, I will try to post one chapter every weekend!)**

"Ye look like ye've seen a ghost," Lady Bain exclaimed to the three of them in the silence, cackling like something funny had happened.

Draco scratched his blonde head. "How do you know Potter's mother?"

She arched a perfect eyebrow and Draco unconsciously licked his lips. "I doona remember, to be honest. All I know is that she was a sweet lass and I was…." she paused, her eyes narrowed in thought, "sad when she died."

"So, you didn't save her?" Potter suddenly cried, and Draco couldn't help but look at him in anger. _How dare he accuse her?_

Lady Bain stared at Harry, her brows furrowed like a confused child's, before saying softly in her Scott's burr, "I doona understand your question, lad."

Harry snorted and Draco felt his eyes narrow. "If you're all powerful, then why didn't you stop Voldemort? Therefore, saving my mother!"

Lady Bain was silent, staring into her now cold stew, and they all looked at her. Hermione and Ron' with bated breath. Harry, with fury. And Draco, with a protective glint in his eyes. Finally, she looked up, and it was quite unexpected what they saw: Her beautiful eyes, so perfectly cloudy, where clear and horridly ordinary, and glistening with unshed tears. "I was greivin', boy." Then she rose quickly, sweeping out of the large hall, the flickering fire from the giant hearth dancing across her slender frame, making her hair look alive.

Draco gave Potter a killing glare, then followed the lady, not wanting to look into why. He followed her soft footsteps up the stairs, down the hallway, past his room, and up to a narrow flight of stairs.

He climbed and climbed the dark passageway, lit solely by small, Venus flytrap-shaped torches, mounted along the stone walls, seeming like tiny, wicked sentries, guarding the recluse that was the life of this old castle.

He came to a little wooden door, and he cautiously opened it, revealing a room like no other: Small and circular, yet viciously tall, it was lit by a small fire in a stone fireplace. Books, stacked like tall skyscrapers, were everywhere. Empty scotch, wine, brandy, and champagne bottles hung all along the pointed ceiling, filled with various herbs, dangled alongside numerous birdcages, housing millions of colorful insects, fluttering about happily. The stone floor was painted with what looked to be a constellation map, but all the stars were connected, creating one giant constellation of confusion. Tapestries, mainly of plants, animals, and the stars, covered the walls, and what walls where barren, where filled with various sketches and notes, written in long-dead tongues. At the far wall was a large desk, made of polished black wood covered in books, drawings, and other miscellanies.

At this desk, sat Lady Bain.

"Lady Bain" Draco asked quietly, stepping closer to her nest. Her head, which had been buried in a tattered scroll, whipped up and she froze him with her gaze, cloudy once more. Draco sighed in relief.

"Aye?" she asked, reaching over absently to scratch under the black cat, Terror's, chin.

Draco gulped and rubbed his head, looking at his feet. A memory flashed into his mind of when he was a boy, and Draco was helpless to prevent it.

"_What, boy?" His father sneered from his large desk, his voice booming inside the mausoleum-like house._

_A young Draco, about 11, scuffed his feet, avoiding his father's gaze. "I got good marks in the Dark Arts today, father."_

_Lucius smirked. "'good'? I don't want 'good'! Go, you pathetic excuse of a son! I just don't want to deal with _you_ today."_

_Draco turned quickly and exited, tears threatening to boil over, but being caught crying in the Malfoy house was as worse as committing murder. No one showed emotion in the Malfoy house. Ever._

"Draco?" He heard his name called right next to his ear, and he flinched before catching himself.

"Yes?" he attempted to sound haughty, but shame colored his words. _No one showed emotion in the Malfoy house._

"Are ye all right? I have some Hot Toddy in here somewhere…" she trailed off, darting into a mountain of books like a mouse searching for cheese in a maze. Draco stood there, confused. He showed fear, a weakness, and she seemed….fine.

She popped back out with two glass mugs filled with a golden-brown liquid, and a cinnamon stick. With a small, happy smile at him that made him forget about his past, if not for a moment, she went back to her desk. She sat down the two drinks and with a little flick of her wrists, broke the cinnamon stick in half. She placed one half into each cup and turned, handing one of the drinks to Draco, the other one gripped in one hand.

He tried to take a gulp, but she placed one small hand on his arm, and he stilled immediately. Her hand drifted to the cup and she stared over at the large painting of the constellation on the floor, and rumbled in her lovely accent, "Is féidir leat teas ár brew, agus ár gcroí te leis an draíocht na Tuatha Dé dannan."

Draco instantly felt the drink heat in his hands. It took all his restraint not to drop the drink right then and there.

She then grinned up at him, and still holding his gaze within hers, she took a sip of hers, and sighed in contentment. Draco cautiously took a quick taste of his, and his eyes bugged out. "What is this?" he gasped, still tasting the spiciness of the cinnamon mixed with a sugary liquid fire.

It tasted exactly like how he imagined she would taste

She giggled. "It's whisky, cloves, honey, lemon ,and cinnamon. It's to make you feel relaxed, Lad."

Draco couldn't help but raise his eyebrows. "I am not a 'lad', Lady Bain. And you know it."

Her eyes, so beautiful and gray, widened. Slowly, a small smile, a secretive smile, curved her wine-red lips. "Hmmmmm, then I am no' a 'lass', Draco," she leaned in just a fraction closer, close enough so he could feel the soft wool of her plaid and the smell of her hair, like roses and peat smoke, "You, may call me MacKayla." Suddenly she rose, tapping his drink. "Now, drink it all, Draco. We rise quite early in the morn." And she disappeared into a wall of books, leaving a very intrigued wizard in her wake.

**You like it? Obviously, I felt like the sotry was dragging on a wee bit, so I stepped up the sexual tension just a tad ;) oh, and for the record, all the Scottish dishes I mention, in both previous and future chapters, are real things. Feel free to message me if you would like the know the recipes! But I decided I would add the recipe for "Hot Toddy" (a traditional Scottish drink that highlanders and lowlanders would use as a remedy for colds and the chills) in here:**

**Pour a shot of whisky into a cup and add boiling black tea or water to it. Add a spoonful of honey or sugar. Add a half slice of lemon, two cloves and a cinnamon stick. Let brew for three to five minutes.**


	6. Race of Shadows

**Horribly sorry for my wayward habits! I'm back, and ready to continue Lady Mackayla and Draco's story!**

_RISE!_

The words boomed in Draco's sleeping mind, and he bolted upright, his eyes snapping open, pointing his wand at a nonexistent intruder.

No one was there.

Draco shook his head, starting to fall back down into the soft bed.

_RISE!_

The words boomed again, and this time Draco hopped out of bed, fuming, got dressed in a pair of black jeans and a dark green tee shirt, and stumbled out into the corridor.

He spotted a little ways down, a flustered and wide-eyed Granger, her hair a large brown tangle. Weasley burst from his room, his wand flying like mad, his boxers rumpled.

Draco could only guess that they had heard the voice too, and assumed that Potter was wandering out of his room right about now.

_COME OUTSIDE!_

Draco flinched, Granger yelped, and Weasley flung his wand about some more.

"Are you doing this, Malfoy?" Ron yelled, stalking toward Draco.

Draco sneered. "As much as I would like to say yes, it isn't me."

"Well then, who is it?" asked Hermione, tilting her head to the side and tapping on her ear, trying to shake out the voice like trapped water after a swim.

The answer hit him, and Draco couldn't help but grin. "I'm guessing it's Lady Bain. Go get dressed." He didn't wait for Weasely's shriek of argument, and scampered down the stairs. Draco hadn't used the word "Scampered" to apply to himself in a LONG time, and Draco furrowed his brow as he walked out the huge dark doors.

Chilly fog, crisp Highland air, and the faint smell of drifting heather and burning peat smoke wrapped around him like a blanket, and he shivered. He waved his wand and a jacket appeared on his thin frame.

Lady Bain awaited at the top of a tiny hill, but he couldn't see her through the thick fog. He trudged up the hill, and when he finally got to the top , his mouth went dry, as always when he saw her. Lady Bain had let her hair down once more, and the rainbow of fall-colored waves billowed beside her like an ancient flag, going to battle. Today, she wore a blood red gown, large cow-hide boots that looked butter-soft, laced up with red ribbon, and a thick sheepskin cloak that enveloped her small frame. Her eyes looked perfectly cloudy, and her cheeks were beautifully flushed from the bitter wind.

She was holding a thick, soft rope, simply looped on the neck of a large black Clydesdale. It's feet where larger than a plate, and it scraped one of it's front hooves slowly across the grass, flaring it's nostrils. It's jet fur was thick and woolly, protecting it from the cold, and it's shaggy mane tumbled down to it's belly, falling over it's big forehead and into it's obsidian eyes . That rope wasn't going to hold that beast long. It's long, black tail swooshed, and it was a shadow moving, whipping around Maykayla's body like it was trying to swallow her. It had on no halter, reins, or saddle. Simply that rope.

"Top o' the morning' to ye, Draco. I see the others chose to ignore me call?"

He fought down the flame of jealousy that arose when an absurd image of Lady Bain and Potter making eyes at each other popped up in his head. "I guess."

She grinned. "Ah, then, more for us! I brought lunch!"

He faked a happy smile, wincing when she turned to rummage in her large basket, strapped to the black horse. He spotted a Clydesdale, a buckskin that was grazing with a gray Eriskay Pony, to her far right.

She turned back around, holding a bowl full of little stuffed pastries. "Scotch Pie!" She placed them back in her basket before Draco could inspect the suspicious-looking rolls, and clambered up the giant black horse, swinging both legs over the side so she was sitting side-saddle, even though she had no saddle. She slipped the rope off the large neck, dropping it to the ground, and grasping a hank of inky, wavy mane in each tiny hand. She looked like a porcelain doll atop a black mountain.

She pointed to the buckskin Clydesdale. "Come on, then! We have much to do!"

Draco gulped, straightened, and strode over to the monster. _I can do this, _he thought with determination.

After 10 tries, he "helped" himself up with some magic. Lady Bain was cackling so hard that she was doubled over on her big beast, her arms draped over it's neck. The horse looked like it was laughing too.

Draco snorted and righted himself, sneakily studying how Mackayla was holding the mane, then doing the same.

"Ye've ne'er been on a horse, have ye?" she called, wiping her eyes.

Draco glared at the ground, so far away, and pushed away the memory of his father forcing him on a horse, then yelling at him when he got it wrong. It was all about the equipment, and the control you had over the horse. That was what Father said.

He cleared his throat. "Where are we going?"

She suddenly became serious. "Nudge the horse when I say, and then let them take us! Horses are very fun creatures, and they have good taste in pastime! Enjoy the ride!"

Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing. Just….let the horse go?

She leaned down, tapping the horse faintly on the right side of it's neck, just a touch, and it moved immediately to the left. She kept her hand there until the horse was guided to stand flush against Draco's mount. Draco's mouth hung open. She got that thing to move….with a touch?

Suddenly, she said " Come on, then!" She gently kicked the horses flanks, leaned forward, and the horse took off. It's leg muscles ripping under black fur. It's hooves dug into the soft, wet dirt. Her hair waved behind her, her tiny hands gripping the mane.

Draco kicked his horse, wincing, and the horse jerked forward, beginning to race across the highland grass, leaping over a ledge, and hitting the rocky terrain of the steep hill on the other side with a '**thud**'. Fog blasted Draco in the face, and he could faintly see Lady Bain's wild mane billowing above the black shadow. Draco felt amazed. The feeling of the horse racing down the incline was unlike any other, leaping from rock to ledge, chasing Lady Bain's horse, who moved even more recklessly. It flew over the sharp boulders, it's front feet coming down on the helpless rubble like a sledge-hammer for a spilt second before it's hind feet settled on the rock with a fake gentleness. The front feet jumped off the rock, pointing straightforward as the hind feet vaulted off the stone, cracking it with a '**crunch**'.

All this under a second.

Draco could feel the horses' joy as they leaped from rock to rock, aiming for the soft, flat ground, covered with fog, at the bottom. Once the horses touched the flat ground, they settled lower, flying over the ground, racing with the rain that had started to drizzle down from above.

Maykayla laughed, a loud, large sound that sounded like big wind chimes colliding together, and Draco had never felt more alive.

**Good? No? Tell me! I'm in love with Scottish things (hello, big Highland hunk lol), horses included, so I was ecstatic to** **include the Scottish breeds, including the endangered Eriskay Pony. I will post a picture of what I envision each horse to look like (goofy, I know, but still). More chapters to come!**


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